Cuts
by Snowglobes4Fi
Summary: Michael and Sam find Fiona injured and left for dead. Can they help her and figure out what she got herself into before it's too late?
1. Chapter 1

**_New story for me…I hope you like it. Hope to update every few days. _**

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><p>A thunderstorm loomed in the distance, but for the moment it was a bright, sunny Miami day. This neighborhood was quiet, almost deserted at this time of day. Michael and Sam crept, guns drawn, around the edge of the cookie-cutter, suburban house.<p>

"Do you hear anything?" Sam asked.

"No, it's a little too quiet," Michael replied.

"You ready?"

"Let's go, Sam."

On the count of three Sam kicked in the front door and Michael leapt in to sweep his gun over the place.

"Clear."

"Any sign of Fi?"

"Not yet," Michael told him, looking around. "But this is where she said her meeting was yesterday and I haven't heard from her since."

"I'll check the basement and back bedrooms if you get the kitchen and the master."

They split up and continued to slowly and systematically search the house. Michael swept the kitchen but it looked like it had not been cleaned in years. He headed down the hallway towards what seemed like the master bedroom. There was a sliding glass door with a broken lock and signs of people living there…beer cans and fast food bags, a bare mattress and some dirty clothes.

"Fiona?" He called. "Fi?"

He carefully opened another door, which lead into a bathroom. It was empty, but bloody towels sat in the sink and a trail of blood led over to the bathtub.

"SAM!" Michael screamed down the hallway.

Holding his breath he pulled back the shower curtain. Bile instantly rose in his throat and he dropped to his knees.

"Fiona," he breathed. She was curled up in the tub, arms and legs bound, blood pooled and crusted beneath her. There was blood in her hair where it looked like she'd been knocked with a bat or a gun or something else hard and unforgiving. One of her ankles was swollen and purple even though it was still strapped in to her high-heeled sandal…signs of a struggle.

And then there were the cuts, strategically and evenly placed down her exposed arm and leg…signs of an interrogation. Someone wanted her to talk, but given the number of cuts, clearly Fiona had held her tongue.

Michael dropped his gun and gingerly reached out to brush fingertips against her cheek. He let his fingers trail down to her neck and hoped against hope to find a pulse. She was cold and still but she was alive.

"Mike!" Sam rushed in. He skidded to a stop when he saw her. "Jesus! Is she…"

"She's alive. Help me get her out."

Between the two of them, they lifted her gently out to the mattress in the bedroom. Michael pulled out his knife and sliced quickly though the tape around her wrists and ankles. They shifted her so she was laying flat and Sam started to work on removing the shoe from her injured ankle. Michael used his fingers to probe for more injuries. He found a dislocated shoulder and some cracked ribs.

"Her shoulder's out. I'm gonna try to reset it while she's still unconscious. Watch out just in case though," Michael warned.

"I've got it," Sam positioned himself to hold down her legs and other arm just in case.

Michael prepared himself, counted to three and quickly popped the joint back into place. Fiona groaned and tried to pull away from him.

"Fi!" Michael called out to her, brushing her hair back and holding her face so that she would see him. "Fiona. It's me. You're okay. Fi. Look at me."

She moaned and scrunched up her face in pain before her eyelids fluttered briefly. "Michael?" Her voice was almost inaudible.

Tears leapt to Michael's eyes and even Sam had to look away to collect himself. "Yeah, Fi. It's me. And Sam. We've got you. You're gonna be okay."

She kept her eyes closed, but sighed. She opened her mouth to speak, but "hurts" was the only thing audible.

"I know, Fi. I know. We're gonna get you out of here. Okay? Just relax." He kissed her forehead and blinked brightly before turning to Sam. "How are we going to get her out of here? I don't want to hurt her any more than she's already hurt."

"Well," Sam said. "I've got an idea, but you're not really going to like it."


	2. Chapter 2

_**Thanks for all the kind words!**_

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><p>"<em>Well," Sam said. "I've got an idea, but you're not really going to like it."<em>

"What is it?"

"More like who is it…I think we should call Campbell."

"No, I do like that Sam, I do. He can bring the ambulance and we can transport her safely. You have his number?"

"Just so happens I do. I'll be right back."

As Sam went off to call Campbell, Michael checked some of Fiona's more private areas for wounds. While the bruising of her ribs spread across her chest, he was happy to find nothing else.

"He's on his way," Sam came back to report. "I asked him to keep this discrete."

"Thanks, Sam."

"So what was she doing here again?" Sam asked.

"All she told me was that she had a meeting with some people about a shipment of guns. I have no idea why things ended up like this."

"You okay here with her?" Sam asked. "I want to go do a perimeter check and then I'll wait for Campbell."

"Yeah," Michael nodded. "Thanks, Sam."

Fiona appeared to be unconscious again, but Michael knew it was for the best at the moment. He stroked her hair and held her hand and whispered soothing words to her. It was only a few minutes before he heard the engine of the ambulance and heard the doors slamming.

"They're back here," he heard Sam's voice above the sound of the wheels of a gurney.

"Oh God," Campbell stumbled into the room. "What…what…?"

Michael nodded in acknowledgement but let Sam take the reins.

"We don't really know either but we knew she needed a lot more help than we could do on our own. That's why we called you. Thanks for getting here so fast."

Campbell sputtered a little but sprang into action as his training kicked in. "Yeah, yeah…I was in the area." He checked her pulse. "Has she been awake? Has she talked to you?"

"Yes, briefly," Michael told him, "But I think she was in too much pain."

"Is this where you found her?"

"No, she was in the bathtub. We brought her out here and cut her arms and legs free. I reset one of her shoulders, but that's it."

"Okay. I want to get her onto a backboard, get her onto the gurney, and get her out to the ambulance. Can you help me lift her?"

They set up the board next to her and Campbell instructed them in the proper way to gently lift her onto it. Her eyes fluttered and she moaned in pain. "Michael?"

He held her hand as Campbell and Sam strapped her in. "I'm still here Fi. It's okay."

Her eyelids fluttered as she struggled to take in her surroundings. "Campbell? What?"

"Hi Fiona," he set his face in front of hers briefly so she could get a good look. "Sam called me to help. We're going to take good care of you, okay? Just relax."

"Mmm," she murmured as she closed her eyes again.

The men lifted her on to the gurney and they all piled into the ambulance. Sam jumped in front to drive.

"You know how to get to the hospital from here?" Campbell asked him.

"No, we're not going to the hospital," Michael answered for him. "Take us to her condo, Sam."

"Got it," Sam speed off.

Campbell glared at Michael. "She needs a hospital!"

"She can't be in a hospital," Michael told him coolly. "I don't know how much you've figured out, but we're not exactly soil scientists."

"No kidding," Campbell grumbled as he hooked up an IV of fluids and added some morphine to the line before starting to clean the wounds on Fiona's leg. "But she has multiple traumas and needs x-rays and proper medications."

"Fiona's not exactly in this country legally." Michael paused to grab some supplies and start working on the wounds on her arm. "And, there's a good chance she's still on quite a few government watch lists. If we took her to a hospital they'd have to report this and then the police would come around asking questions and before we knew it she'd be whisked off to some kind of jail, so can you please just help us?"

Campbell sighed. "I'll do what I can, but she needs a good doctor."

"Sam and I have experience with field medicine. I've dealt with worse."

"Fine then," Campbell grumbled. "But we should take her to my place instead. It's closer and I've been teaching some classes so I have a lot of the supplies we'll need."

"You're sure it's safe?"

"I'm not sure there's anywhere safe for you people," he stared at Michael.

"Fine," Michael relented. "Sam…new plan."


	3. Chapter 3

"_Fine then," Campbell grumbled. "But we should take her to my place instead. It's closer and I've been teaching some classes so I have a lot of the supplies we'll need."_

"_You're sure it's safe?"_

"_I'm not sure there's anywhere safe for you people," he stared at Michael._

"_Fine," Michael relented. "Sam…new plan."_

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><p>Campbell gave the directions to Sam and they worked in silence until they arrived at his condo. Michael glanced sideways periodically at the man he hadn't seen in at least a year. He seemed different. Maybe it was just the circumstances but he seemed more serious, less of a free spirit.<p>

The ambulance turned down a side street and Campbell surveyed the neighborhood as they drove up. "Sam, pull around back to the alley," he advised.

"You got it."

They wheeled the gurney in through the back door and down a long hallway.

"I have a guest room back here where we can set her up."

Sam pulled the blankets back before Michael and Campbell lifted Fiona carefully over to the soft surface. She sighed softly and Michael noticed a slight up turn in the corners of her lips.

"Mike, I'm going to call your mom and have her drive me over to pick up the car."

"Right, Sam," Michael replied absentmindedly, brushing the hair off Fiona's face. "Be careful."

"Of course." Sam disappeared out to the living room again, and Michael knew without even asking that he would be take stock of Campbell's security before he left.

"I want to set and wrap her ribs first," Campbell told Michael. He went to grab some scissors.

They cut her slinky tank top off and tossed it aside. It was stained with blood and Michael doubted that Fiona would miss it. He felt a bit uncomfortable with Fiona's ex-boyfriend handling her this way, but to Campbell's credit he was focused and professional.

They went ahead and wrapped her dislocated arm against her body so that she wouldn't move it too much in her sleep. "I wish I had a gown for her," Campbell mused.

"Hold on," Michael told him. He unbuttoned his dress shirt and quickly lopped off one of the sleeves with the scissors. "Here," he offered it to Campbell.

Campbell raised his eyebrows but acknowledged, "That'll work."

They slipped her free arm through the cut off sleeve, wrapped the shirt around her, and buttoned it up in the front. When they laid her back down Campbell took a good look at the gash on her head. "Will you get a few towels? This could get messy."

Michael offered to help with the stitching, but Campbell waved him off. "I've been doing this for years," he told the other man. "I'm pretty good." Michael had to admit; he was quite deft and worked quickly.

When he was finished, Campbell started packing up the ambulance equipment. "Listen, I have to get back to work before anyone gets too suspicious. I'll be back home after my shift. Keep her ankle elevated and get some ice on it. If the swelling doesn't go down, we may have to take her in for an x-ray. That really needs to be treated properly." He handed Michael a tube of antibiotic ointment and bandages. He laid another IV back on the nightstand along with the bottle of morphine and a syringe. "I'm sure you can handle anything else." He paused. "Take good care of her, all right?"

Michael looked at him seriously. "I will. Don't worry."

Now that he was alone and things seemed stable, Michael took a minute to decompress. He leaned his head back and took a deep breath, rolled his head from side to side and scrunched his shoulders then released them. He swept a hand over his eyes and sighed. 'What have you gotten yourself into, Fiona?' he wondered.

After a few more deep breaths he approached Fiona again. She looked peaceful now, thanks, no doubt, to the pain medicine. The bruising on her face was a deep, angry purple. He smeared some of the ointment over the stitches then covered it with gauze. He wrapped the bandaging around her head to hold it in place.

He wanted to get her out of the bloodstained shorts she wore while they were alone. He unbuttoned them and tried to carefully slide them down her legs. The fabric was brushing against the recently treated cuts though, so he decided to take the scissors to them too. With that taken care of, he pulled the blankets over her carefully, moved some pillows to the foot of the bed to prop up her ankle, and then went in search of ice.

Campbell's place was a bit dark and cluttered, but clean and cozy. Michael found one small icepack and dropped it on the counter. He was digging through the freezer for more ice when he heard a loud banging on the front door. He pulled out his gun and padded quickly over to it. The banging continued as he positioned himself in a spot just out of sight and popped the door open, ready to ambush whoever walked in.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Thanks for all the lovely reviews.**_

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><p><em>He was digging through the freezer for more ice when he heard a loud banging on the front door. He pulled out his gun and padded quickly over to it. The banging continued as he positioned himself in a spot just out of sight and popped the door open, ready to ambush whoever walked in.<em>

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><p>It was then that he almost tackled his own mother. He leapt at her before he realized who she was and pulled up short.<p>

She jumped out of the way anyway. "Jesus, Michael, who'd you think I was?"

"Mom," he sighed in relief. "I didn't know…something's wrong…I thought…"

"Sam said Fi was hurt, so I came to see if I could help."

Michael looked down at the floor. "She's hurt real bad, Mom. You don't want to see her like this."

"Nonsense," she exclaimed. "I can handle a few scrapes and bruises. How many times did I fix you up after a fight at school?" Michael noted she neglected to mention the times when she'd fixed him, and herself, up after a fight with his father.

"Ma, really," he gripped her arm.

"Michael, let me help. Please. It's Fiona." She laid one of her hands over the one holding her arm. "She's like a daughter," she told him softly.

"I know that, Mom. That's exactly why I think it's best if you-"

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Michael," she demanded quietly. When he still didn't move, she pushed his hand off and headed in search of Fiona.

He decided not to try to stop her. What good would it do? He grabbed the small ice pack he'd found earlier off the counter and followed her in there.

"Jesus," he heard her shriek as he entered the room. "Michael…" she looked at him in shock.

"I told you," he whispered and settled the ice on Fiona's injured ankle.

Madeline ran a finger down the length of the arm with the cuts on it. "Who would do something like this?" she demanded.

"I don't know," Michael answered honestly. "Fiona works with some nasty people sometimes. She didn't tell me much about what this job was…just that it was a gun deal. It looks like someone wanted information out of her but she wouldn't talk."

"So they tortured her? What the hell is wrong with people?" She brushed gentle fingertips down the side of Fiona's face. "Geez, you think this kind of stuff only happens in movies." She took a few quick breaths to compose herself. "Well, she's safe now. We'll take good care of her."

Michael gave her a small smile in agreement. "Where's Sam?" he asked.

"He said he was going to stop and pick up some ice, his computer, and dinner before coming back here."

Michael's stomach registered the word dinner, but he couldn't imagine eating right now. "That's good. Could you make some coffee? I think it's going to be a long night."

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><p>When Sam returned he went straight to work researching the most recent owners of the house where they'd found Fiona and police reports from that general area. Maddie, bored and in unfamiliar surroundings, alternately sat outside smoking and poked around in Campbell's things.<p>

Michael, in the mean time, had dragged one of Campbell's armchairs to the side of Fiona's bed. He sat, leaning his head against the side of the chair and just watched her sleep. It wasn't like he'd never seen her hurt before. There had been a few incidents back in Ireland…one time in Berlin. There was the thing with O'Neill, but that was just a graze. This was…this was…violent. This was savage. This was…potentially scaring in so many ways.

He watched the liquid drip slowly out of the IV bag and into her arm. Her face was calm, her features soft, but all he could see was various versions of what might have happened. He imagined they'd surprised her. She'd tried to run but tripped and twisted her ankle. They'd bound her up and started to interrogate her. What was it they'd wanted to know? Why Fiona? She must have infuriated them…they were stubborn, but she was worse. He imagined they gave up and decided to just knock her out. Rather than have her bleeding all over the place, they probably dumped her unceremoniously in the tub…cracking ribs and dislocating her shoulder with the drop.

He sighed. He wanted to hold her, but her injuries prevented that right now. He straightened her blanket and smoothed back her hair, sighed again, and then wandered out into the living room.

Sam had notes spread out across the dining room table. "Mikey!" he exclaimed. "How's Fi?"

Michael settled into a seat at the table. "Same."

Sam shoved some potato chips in his mouth. "Better than worse," he noted cheerfully, trying to help Michael stay positive.

Michael just nodded blankly. "Where's my mom?"

"Smoke break," he threw a thumb over his shoulder at the back alley.

Michael groaned. "So what've you found?"

"Well," Sam began, "that house belonged to a Mr. and Mrs. Lutz for the last four years until the bank foreclosed on it six months ago. Very nice, young couple…no history of anything more than parking tickets and ill-advised loans. The house's been vacant since then, but two weeks ago neighbors reported suspicious activity to the police. Police checked it out…found nothing. Then last week this warehouse down the road was robbed," he pointed it out on one of the maps.

"And you think it's connected?"

"I don't have enough points to make a line yet, Mike, but I'm getting there. Maybe at some point Fi will be able to give us some clues."

Michael looked back in the direction of the bedroom. "Yeah, maybe tomorrow. I want to let her get some more rest."

"You should get some rest too," Sam told him. "Go lay down back there. Your mom and I can hold down the fort for awhile."

"Yeah," Michael nodded. "I guess at some point Campbell will be back…just so you know…don't shoot him or anything."

"I'll try my best not to," Sam winked.

Michael shuffled back to Fiona's room. The lights were low but he could see she was still out. He walked around to the other side of the bed and moved the blankets aside. He slid as close as he could get to her without disturbing the dressings and IV. Propping himself up slightly on one arm, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. She felt warm and alive and that was all the comfort he needed to get a few hours of decent sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

_He propped himself up slightly, leaned over and kissed her cheek. She felt warm and alive and that was all the comfort he needed to get a few hours of decent sleep. _

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><p>The next thing Michael knew the bed was shaking. As he snapped awake he realized it was Fiona in the throws of a nightmare. She rocked back and forth and kicked at invisible foes. She was mumbling protests quietly at first, but by the time Michael managed to make it around to the other side of the bed she was screaming.<p>

"Fiona!" he yelled over her screams, trying to wake her. He pinned her free arm to keep her from ripping out the IV. Campbell, Sam, and his mother quickly assembled in the doorway. Campbell jumped in to hold her legs still as Michael continued to try to wake her.

"Fiona," he repeated. "Fiona Glenanne, wake up. It's okay." He placed his free hand on her face, gentle, but strong. She stopped screaming and turned towards his touch. She sucked in a deep breath and her eyes flashed open.

"Michael," she said once she caught her breath, sounding shocked to see him.

Maddie gripped Sam's arm in relief. He gave her hand a squeeze and led her out of the room.

"Hi, Fi," he smiled, keeping his hand on her face and brushing his thumb gently over her skin. "It's okay."

He settled himself carefully on the side of the bed and she stared at him intently, her eyes searching his face for something. "You're alive," she whispered, her voice ragged.

He scrunched his face in confusion. "Yeah, Fi. I'm fine."

"I was so worried," she gripped his arm.

He pursed his lips and took her hand in his. "Why were you worried?" he whispered. "I was worried about _you_."

"The bomb, Michael. The bomb at the mosque…" her voice trailed off as she stared off into the air over his shoulder.

He was becoming more and more confused. "What?" he asked her. He guided her gaze gently back to his.

She locked eyes with him. "You were there, Michael. You were there…and Sam…and Campbell…and…" her eyes fluttered dreamily as her voice trailed off.

Campbell cleared his throat across the room and Michael turned to look at him.

"She's probably a little loopy from the morphine," he stated. "I just got home and gave her another dose. Sometimes it gives people nightmares." He looked apologetic as Michael glared at him. "Sorry. I didn't want to wake you."

Michael sighed. "It's all right. She needs it," he admitted. When he turned back to her she was asleep again. He closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. He stood up and smoothed her sheets, settling her arm back across her stomach.

He turned to Campbell again. "How does she look?"

Campbell stepped up to join him at the bedside. "She'll be all right. She's responsive, just exhausted. Her ankle looks better. I think it's just sprained…I don't feel any breaks. It looks like everything will heal with time, we just need to keep the pain away and make sure she takes it easy."

Michael was pleased to hear that. He turned to the other man, a man he'd once been terribly jealous of. "Thank you," he said sincerely.

"Not a problem," Campbell replied. He paused and then reconsidered, "Well actually…there might be a slight problem."

"What?"

"My supervisor noticed my little disappearance earlier. I think I told him a good enough lie for now, but if they notice the missing morphine…I could be in trouble."

Michael nodded thoughtfully. "Let's see what Sam can come up with. He's pretty good with that kind of thing."

They wandered out to the living room where Madeline practically pounced on them. "Michael," she started urgently. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Mom. It was just a nightmare. She's asleep again."

She looked back and forth between the two men incredulously.

"It's okay, Mrs. Westen," Campbell assured her. "It's just a side effect of the pain medicine."

"Well," Maddie huffed. "I'm going to go sit with her and make sure she's all right."

Michael couldn't help but smile as she stalked off down the hall. His mother and Fiona had had an almost instant connection when they'd first met.

"So she's really okay?" Sam asked as the two men joined him at the table.

"Yeah," Michael ran a hand through his hair. "She was just dreaming…hallucinating."

"What was it she said?" Sam asked. "I thought I heard the word bomb. That doesn't really sound like a nightmare for Fi…more like any given Tuesday." He realized what he'd just said a little too late and glanced awkwardly at Campbell.

Michael glared at him a bit, but rolled his eyes. "Yeah, something about a bomb at a mosque and we were all there. She seemed pretty upset about it."

"You sure there's nothing to it?"

"No," Michael admitted, "I'm not sure about anything at this point." He sighed. "But, more pressing at the moment, Campbell needs some help covering his tracks at work, do you think you could take care of that?"

"Easy peesy," Sam replied. He'd already started composing a new email to one of his many "buddies."

"What time is it?" Michael asked while Sam was typing. He'd finally noticed the hints of morning sunlight coming through the curtains.

"Almost six," Campbell told him.

Michael's stomach growled viciously. He turned to Campbell, "You don't happen to have any yogurt, do you?"


	6. Chapter 6

_**Thanks again for all the lovely comments. I'm enjoying writing it, so there will be more...no worries. This is for Wednesday. It's spring break and I've been getting up later and later every morning, so I thought an evening post might work better.**_

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><p><em>Michael's stomach growled viciously. He turned to Campbell, "You don't happen to have any yogurt, do you?"<em>

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><p>Campbell smiled…the first time Michael had seem him smile since this mess began. "I picked some up on my way home from work. I know Fi used to like it a lot. She said you did too."<p>

"Thank you," Michael told him for the second time that morning. He opened the refrigerator to find the small stash.

"Spoons are in the drawer by the sink." Michael nodded thanks this time.

Sam made a few final, dramatic keystrokes on the computer and then announced to everyone, "Done." He looked at Campbell. "You should be good to go."

"Thanks," he sounded surprised. "Well, I'm going to go get some sleep before I have to work again tonight. Yell if you need anything, I guess." If Campbell felt strange about handing over control of his house to his ex-girlfriend's on again, off again love interest, that man's mother, and their buddy Sam he showed no indication of it. Instead he waved casually and wandered off down the hall to his room.

Michael and Sam looked at each other from across the room.

"We need to get Fi somewhere else as soon as possible," Sam said. "Campbell's been very helpful, but this is a little weird."

"Agreed," Michael mumbled through a mouthful of yogurt. He rejoined Sam at the table. "So what's our next move here?"

"Well," Sam began. "I was thinking later I'd go back over to that neighborhood and see if I can't talk to some of those neighbors who called in the suspicious vehicles…see if I can't get some descriptions of the men to go on."

"I'll go with you," Michael told him.

"You really wanna leave Fiona alone right now without protection?"

"No," Michael agreed. "Can you handle it alone?"

"Impersonating an FBI agent and talking to some stay-at-home moms? I think I'll be fine."

Michael couldn't argue with that.

Sam started typing on the computer again. "So you really don't think there's anything to that mosque comment Fiona made earlier? I could look into it."

"You really think there are some Muslim terrorists getting ready to blow up Miami? That doesn't really seem like their kind of thing."

Sam shrugged. "Stranger things have happened…"

"Well if you have the time, don't let me stop you," Michael told him as he scraped the last of the yogurt out of the cup.

"Great," Sam said, "because I already have a file I've been keeping for about a year now." Michael raised his eyebrows. "You know, just part of this thing, sort of like a database, where I can keep track of any news we might want to keep handy. One of the sections is related to hate crimes." He spun the computer around so Michael could see. "If you look, there've been a string of small incidents of hate crimes against the local Muslim community over the past year. The incidents have been getting more frequent and more blatant in the last month."

"So, what?" Michael asked. "You think they've had enough and decided to take revenge?"

"Maybe," Sam replied. "Won't know until we investigate."

"And how would this involve Fiona and a gun deal?"

"Maybe they wanted some guns to go along with their bomb?"

"No," Michael mused. "Fiona was keeping something from them…whoever this is, she has something they want and she wouldn't give it up. Something's not adding up here."

"Maybe she really was just hallucinating."

"Maybe…" Michael mumbled.

"Well," Sam stood up and stretched. "I'm going to go home and get a shower and then commit a federal offence in the name of our friendship. I'll let you know what I find out."

Michael smiled. "Thanks, Sam. Be careful."

He locked up behind Sam and then made his way back into the bedroom where Fi was staying. She was still asleep and so was his mother, curled up in the armchair by the bed. He went over and gently touched her shoulder.

"Ma," he tried not to startle her, but she jumped anyway.

"Wha? Hey!" she flailed a little before realizing where she was. "Oh, Michael."

"Hi Mom. You fell asleep. Why don't you go home and get some rest?"

"Well…you don't need anything?"

"Not right now. I'll call you later and let you know how things are going, okay?"

She nodded and stood up. "Okay, Michael, but if I don't hear from you by…" she looked at her watch, "By noon, I'm coming back here with an armed assault team to make sure you're all right."

"I'll call you," he promised again.

"Okay." She pulled him in for a hug and kissed his cheek. "You be careful here, and take good care of your girlfriend, all right?"

"I will, Mom. I promise."

She smiled at him a bit sadly and headed out.

Michael sighed heavily and looked back at Fiona. She was still tucked in, snug and secure. He picked up the warm ice packs and carried them into the kitchen to switch them out with new ones. He made sure the door was locked again, grabbed Sam's computer and the ice packs and went back to Fiona. Once the ice packs were back in place, he settled himself into the chair at the side of her bed. Opening Sam's computer he began to dig into Sam's files full of police reports and hopefully clues.


	7. Chapter 7

"_Well," Sam stood up and stretched. "I'm going to go home and get a shower and then commit a federal offence in the name of our friendship. I'll let you know what I find out."_

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><p>When Sam Axe wanted to impersonate a fed, he didn't have to do too much…comb his hair a certain way, throw on some loafers and his cheapest sports coat and he was set. This morning Sam cruised the neighborhood once then settled the car against the curb at one end of the street. He strolled up the street to house 247, across the street and two doors down from the house where they'd found Fi.<p>

A young woman was sitting on the front step, watching a little girl run around a small plastic playhouse. She watched Sam approach and he nodded curtly.

"Morning, Ma'am." He paused in her driveway and flashed open a fake FBI badge. "May I ask you a few questions?"

She stood up and walked over to him. "I already spoke to the police."

"Yes, Ma'am, and they passed that information up the food chain, so to speak. I'm afraid I'm here today because we're looking into a potential terrorist plot."

The woman stiffened. "What?" She glanced anxiously over at her daughter. "But…but…this is Miami. Who would want to do anything here?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out, Ma'am."

"Please," she told him, "Call me Julia, Julia Gardner."

"Ms. Gardner," Sam pulled out a note pad, "Can you review what you told the police for me?"

"Well, my daughter Amy and I were outside playing like we do every morning. While I was out here I noticed the trucks in front of that house over there," she pointed to the vacant house. "My friend Jennifer used to live there with her husband until they lost the house."

"Jennifer Lutz?"

She nodded. "It was weird to see any kind of car in front of their house, but these trucks were especially weird."

"What was so strange about them?" Sam asked.

"Well for one thing they were those giant trucks, you know? Those pick up trucks with huge wheels that take up more than one parking space?" Sam nodded. "They were brand new, sparkling, and no one around here can afford anything that fancy."

Sam jotted down the notes. "Do you remember what color they were?"

"Well yeah," she paused. "But, I gave all this information to the police when they came by…they didn't give you the report?"

Sam shuffled his feet and tried to look guilty. "To be honest with you, Ma'am, we don't have the best relationship with the MPD. I looked over their report and found it to be a bit…lacking."

She huffed at that. "You just never know, do you? Well, one truck was silver and the other was white, but I can do better than that. I took Amy for a little walk that morning and I got their license plate numbers."

Sam perked up at that. "Do you still remember them?"

"Well yeah, that's why I called the cops, the plates kind of bothered me." Sam raised his eyebrows at her. "The silver one was WHT PWR and the white one was WHT PRD."

Sam wrote that down in his notebook while Julia Gardner stared at him expectantly.

"Well?" she asked him. "Don't you get it?"

Sam looked up at her. "I'm sorry, get what?"

"The plates…white power and white pride."

"Oh," Sam nodded. "That makes a lot of sense," he lied. "Did you see anyone going in and out of that house or the trucks."

She nodded.

"I don't suppose they were Middle Eastern looking men, were they?" He sighed. Their only theory was being ripped apart here.

"No," she looked at him like he was crazy. "They were just a bunch of white guys. You know, the kind with shaved heads and lots of tattoos?" She paused while Sam wrote that down. "So you guys really think they're terrorists?"

Sam tucked his notebook back in his breast pocket. "Well," he tried to play things off, "We don't really know at this point, but you can rest assured that the U.S. government is on the case now." He pulled a business card out of his wallet and handed it to her. "If you think of anything else, give me a call please."

He turned and started to walk away.

"They were here again, you know. Just yesterday."

He turned back to her.

"Are you guys going to take care of things? If anything happens to my baby girl…"

"You have nothing to worry about," Sam assured her in his best government voice. "We have everything under control."

He turned again and pulled out his cell phone as he headed for the car. "Yeah, hey Mike. This thing is out of control. Wait till you hear what I just learned…"


	8. Chapter 8

_**You all are really going to like what's coming up the next few days. I've been working on it and it's getting to some good parts. Many thanks again for all the lovely comments.**_

* * *

><p><em>Sam turned again and pulled out his cell phone as he headed for the car. "Yeah, hey Mike. This thing is out of control. Wait to you hear what I just learned…"<em>

* * *

><p>Michael was still by Fiona's bedside when Sam returned. The smell of take-out preceded his entrance to the bedroom, but Michael was still startled when Sam greeted him.<p>

"Hey Mike!"

He was lost in thought wondering when he might finally have a chance to speak to a more lucid Fiona. She'd been awake briefly a few times throughout the day, but always just mumbling strange, disconnected things. It worried him to see her like that, even if he knew it was the medicine.

Sam stepped closer and clapped Michael on the back. "Campbell let me in on his way out to work. I brought take out from Carlito's…come on," he wiggled the bag in Michael's direction. "I'll tell you about what I found over dinner."

It was only late afternoon, but Michael had barely eaten anything all day, so he could not deny the lure of a good meal. He stood up to follow Sam and groaned as he realized how sore his muscles were from sitting all day.

Sam spread the food out on the table and sat down to dig in. Michael stood by the table and stretched for a moment before sitting down. "So what did you find, Sam?" he asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Well," he picked up a few French fries, "Either Fi's got things backwards or we do."

"Did you run those plates?"

Sam nodded as he chewed. "Both trucks are registered to a Bill Dixon. One of them matches the description of a vehicle at one of the most recent hate crime incidents. I haven't had a chance to look into Dixon yet, but I'm thinking these are our bad guys, Mike, not anyone at the mosque."

"Makes sense, I guess." Michael set down his sandwich. "She mentioned a mosque and a bomb, she didn't say they were making it there." He sat quietly for a moment, processing all the information. "So assuming Dixon is the one we're after here, we still don't know what that has to do with Fiona or what they wanted from her."

"You think maybe they wanted her expert assistance in building a bomb?"

"Maybe," Michael thought about it, "But surely there are easier ways to make a bomb than tracking down Fiona and coercing her to work for them…"

"I think just about anything would be easier than trying to get Fi to do something she doesn't want to do!" Sam glanced back towards the bedroom. "She's still snoozing."

"Yep," Michael sighed. "Campbell says the medicine should be wearing off soon."

"We really need to talk to her," Sam said after a swig of ice tea.

Michael nodded emphatically while his mouth was full. He was just about to answer when his phone started to vibrate and dance across the table. He checked the caller and then answered it, "Yeah, Ma?"

"Michael," she began, "I'm outside the door, but I wanted to call you this time so that you didn't try to kill me like you did the last time."

He rolled his eyes, "All right, Mom. I'll get the door." He shook his head as he ended the call. "Don't even ask," he told Sam.

Madeline was indeed standing on Campbell's front step. Michael let her in and locked up behind her as his phone started vibrating again. He looked at the number, but it was unfamiliar. He wandered into the other room to answer it.

"Hi, Maddie," Sam called as Michael left the room.

"Hello, Sam," she replied as she walked in. She surveyed the table. "What did you get me?"

Sam stuttered a bit. "I…uh…I didn't realize you were coming by…I…"

She took a few French fries off Michael plate and waved him off. "Don't worry, Sam, I'm just kidding. How're things with Fi."

"Same I think," Sam gave a half smile and shrugged.

Michael strode purposefully back into the room before she could reply. "Grab your stuff, Sam, we've gotta go."

Sam and Maddie looked up at him in surprise.

"That was one of Fi's neighbors. Someone's there…in her house right now…let's go!"

Sam grabbed his keys and another bite of his hamburger as Michael turned to his mother. "Ma, Campbell's at work, can you stay here with Fi?"

"Of course, Michael."

He pulled a handgun out of his waistband and set it on the table. "Keep this with you," he advised her. "Just in case."

She looked alarmed. "Michael you don't really think…"

"No, I don't think they'll find Fi here, but just in case."

"Okay," she whispered. He looked back at the bedroom where Fi was sleeping before Madeline pushed him out after Sam. "What are you waiting for?" she said. "Go. Go catch these bastards."


	9. Chapter 9

_He looked back at the bedroom where Fi was sleeping before Madeline pushed him out after Sam. "What are you waiting for?" she said. "Go. Go catch these bastards."_

* * *

><p>Michael pulled the Charger to a stop down the street from Fi's condo and a woman ran out to meet them.<p>

"They're gone! You just missed them," she told Michael breathlessly as he and Sam stepped out of the car.

"Are you all right?" He recognized the woman as one of Fiona's yoga friends. He'd exchanged pleasantries with her on his way out of Fi's place some mornings as she arrived to work out.

"I'm fine," she told them. "They didn't see me. Where's Fi? I just kept thinking of her in there with those men." She shuddered and wrapped her arms around herself.

"She's safe," Sam told her. "She's staying…" he glanced at Michael, "She's staying with some friends."

"Did you call the police?" Michael asked her.

"No, not yet. I…Fiona mentioned once that I should always call you first," she looked a little worried.

"That's good," he told her gently. "Go back inside. We'll check everything out and let you know when it's safe."

She looked back and forth between them and nodded before jogging back to her own condo.

Michael popped open the trunk and discretely selected a new handgun. He looked at Sam. "You ready?"

Sam nodded and they started walking nonchalantly up the street towards Fi's place.

"No trucks," Sam noted.

Michael nodded. "We could still be walking into a trap though."

Sam nodded as they flanked the gate to Fiona's courtyard. He pointed to the busted lock. It was easy to see someone had kicked it in. "Subtle," Sam whispered sarcastically.

Michael pushed the gate open with the barrel of his gun. They waited carefully before stepping into the courtyard. There they saw the glass panel of the front door was broken…glass scattered everywhere. The glass crunched under their shoes as they stepped through the new opening, careful not to get scratched by the jagged edges.

Fiona's typically meticulously clean condo was a disaster. Furniture was toppled, pillows were slashed; feathers and glass and books were everywhere.

Sam whistled under his breath as he looked around. "Who ever these guys are, they're lucky Fi's not here to see this."

Michael was silent as he looked around for any explosives or traps they might have left behind. They split up and checked every room before meeting back in the living room.

"Looks clean," Sam told Michael. He nodded in agreement.

Michael leaned against the kitchen counter and surveyed the scene. "They're looking for something," he mused. "Whatever it was they wanted from Fiona two days ago, they still don't have it." He paused as he picked up the remains of a lamp. "And they're getting desperate."

"Good thing we didn't bring her here, huh?" Sam observed. "You think she's safe at Campbell's?"

"I do. They haven't been together for years. There shouldn't be any way to connect her to him."

Michael suddenly stalked across the room when his eye caught a glint of light as it hit something under the couch. He leaned down and pulled out a throw pillow with a hunting knife sticking out of it. It was slashed with evenly spaced cuts just like Fiona's arm and leg. The knife in the middle pinned a note in place.

Sam came over to get a closer look as Michael used the hem of his shirt to pull the knife out without putting fingerprints on it. He set the knife and the pillow on the coffee table and held the note out for Sam to read. It was scrawled in capital letters on the back of a receipt for a storage unit.

Michael read it out loud, "We will find it."

"We'll find it? What's _it_?" Sam wondered in frustration. "Would it be that hard to spell things out for us? Give us just a little hint?"

Michael crumpled the note into a ball with barely contained fury.

Sam recognized the look on his face and asked cautiously, "What do you wanna do next, Mikey?"

"What do I want to do?" His jaw was clenched tightly. He looked down at the knife. "I want to find this guy and use this knife to slit his throat. That's what I want to do."


	10. Chapter 10

"_What do you wanna do next, Mikey?"_

"_What do I want to do?" His jaw was clenched tightly. He looked down at the knife. "I want to find this guy and use this knife to slit his throat. That's what I want to do."_

* * *

><p>Sam coughed awkwardly. "Okay…let's call that plan B…" He used his handkerchief to fold up the knife and put it in his pocket. "I'll call Maddie and check on her. Why don't you find something to cover the hole in the door until we can get it replaced."<p>

Michael pressed the heel of his hand to the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. "Yeah," he sighed. "Make sure she doesn't give Fi any more of that morphine. We're gonna need to talk to her."

"Right," Sam told him as he dialed.

Michael sighed and trudged carefully through the mess on the floor. He righted one of Fiona's bookshelves and tried to place some of the items back onto the shelves. He picked up the remnants of a snow globe and set it carefully on a shelf too. The glass dome was broken and the water and glitter spilled all across the floor, but Michael thought she might want to see what was left of it one last time.

He made his way over to her laundry room hoping to find some plywood. He'd just pulled out her hammer when he heard Sam yell, "Hey, Mikey…change of plans again."

Michael poked his head through the doorway. "Now what?"

"Your mom says Fi's awake and demanding to talk to you." Michael smiled. "You go," Sam told him. "I'll stay here and start cleaning up."

Michael nodded, smiled broadly, and wove his way through the wreckage on his way out.

"Thanks, Sam! I'll call you."

Sam shook his head and couldn't help but smile as Michael left. "Anytime, brother, anytime."

* * *

><p>Michael sped the whole way back to Campbell's, ran up to the door and pounded it with his fist.<p>

Madeline opened it what felt like decades later.

"Ma…" he stood there breathless.

"What?" She stood aside so he could come in. "Go," she waved him back.

Fiona was sitting in bed waiting as he finally skidded to a stop in the open doorway.

"Michael!" She tried to lean forward and reach for him without thinking, but quickly remembered why she was in bed when her head and ribs protested the abrupt movement. Her face scrunched up in pain as she carefully leaned back against the pillows again.

Michael rushed over to her. "Hey," he said gently, smoothing her hair back as she settled down again. "Take it easy. I'm right here." He sat carefully on the side of the bed.

"Michael," she grabbed his arm. "Did they find it? Tell me they didn't find it!"

He tried not to sound too harsh, but the tired frustration crept into his voice. "Find _what_ Fiona? What the hell is this all about?"

"It's a chip. Some kind of little computer do-dad, but their bomb won't work without it." She looked at him and her grip on his arm tightened. "Michael, you can't let them get that chip."

He pried her fingers off of his arm and laced them through his own instead. "Okay," he told her, "Can we start from the beginning here? Where is this chip and why does it have anything to do with you?"

She sighed and then cringed a little at the pain in her side with that movement. "Unless they've found it, it's in a little hiding spot I have down in Coconut Grove."

Michael cringed, thinking of the note at her condo. "It's not a storage unit, is it?"

"Hmm? No, it's in a boarded up storefront on the outskirts of town. I rent the place off the books from some little old lady to keep it looking abandoned and make sure no one snoops."

"Could they trace it to you?"

"I hope not, but I don't know how good these guys are." She paused and looked down at the lines of scabs on her arm. "They are, at the very least, persistent."

He squeezed her hand slightly and she looked back up at him. Her eyes were still tired. He could tell it was taking all her energy to sit up and converse with him. "How did you end up involved with this, Fi?" he asked softly.

She smiled a little too brightly, trying to lighten the mood and not show how weak and vulnerable she was feeling. "You know me, can't let a good shipment of assault rifles go unnoticed. A friend from overseas gave me a heads up that they would be coming into town, so I did a little prep work, staked out the warehouse, and waited for them to arrive. I didn't know who the buyers were, who I was stealing them from, just that they were up to no good. So, you know, I liberated the crates from the warehouse and squirreled them away for a rainy day.

"Honestly, Michael, I didn't even go through the crates to see what was in there. We were busy with that other job, and I had to help your mother with her poker night, and before I knew it, it was a week later and I got a call from some new buyers looking to make a purchase."


	11. Chapter 11

_**Goodness gracious, FF has been a mess. I uploaded Chapter 10 Saturday night, but then nobody could see it. Then I tried to log in to upload this chapter last night and I couldn't get logged in. Boo. Oh well. We're back to morning posting I guess. Sorry about all that!**_

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><p>"<em>Honestly, Michael, I didn't even go through the crates to see what was in there. We were busy with that other job, and I had to help your mother with her poker night, and before I knew it, it was a week later and I got a call from some new buyers looking to make a purchase."<em>

* * *

><p>Michael frowned, knowing where this was going.<p>

"I went to the meeting to set up the deal and that's where they ambushed me…at that house. I walked in and they were on me. I tried to get away but I messed up my ankle and they knocked me out." She dislodged her fingers and touched the bandage on her forehead absentmindedly. "When I woke up they had me tied up and in that tub and that's when that monster showed up."

"Bill Dixon?"

"I guess so, he never really told me his name…he just started with the questions…and the cuts." She shivered a bit and Michael leaned in hold her, but she pushed him away. "No," she told him, fighting back tears. "Let me get through this first." She swallowed hard and Michael bit his tongue trying to give her the space she needed to finish her story without breaking down.

"So, he started with the first cut without even asking questions. Just said it was a taste of things to come if I didn't tell him what he wanted to know. I didn't even know who they were at first, who I'd pissed off, but then he started asking about the crate from the warehouse.

"At first I was just shocked and groggy so I didn't say anything. Then he started ranting about their mission and how I was a threat to the cause, so I kept my mouth shut until I could hear more about what that cause might be. I passed out a few times, but once I overheard them talking about the chip and the bomb and staking out the mosque to make sure they picked the right time to use it.

"After that…" her voice started to break, "After that I knew I had to do whatever it took to keep that chip out of their hands. If they were willing to bomb a house of worship? I couldn't let them do that," she whispered and wiped an errant tear off her cheek. "But when he moved to my leg I just couldn't take it anymore. I gave them an address for another storage spot…I don't even know what's there now, but it wasn't their damn chip and I just wanted it to be over, Michael…I just…I just…"

"You did good, Fi," Michael whispered and leaned down to kiss her cheek. She wrapped her free arm around him and held him close for a few moments, sniffling into his shoulder but not really crying.

"Michael?"

He sat up for a moment. "Yeah, Fi?"

"Can you help me get up for a little while? I'm so tired of being in bed…and my arm…" she nodded slightly at the dislocated shoulder.

"Yeah, Fi. Come here." He checked to see that Campbell has removed the needle from the IV, pulled back the sheets, and picked her up slowly.

Her lips flattened as she tried not to show the pain that moving caused. He lifted her just from the bed over to the armchair where he'd spent so much time lately.

"How's this?" he asked her.

She gave a thin smile through the pain. "It's a start I guess."

He kissed the top of her head and knelt down in front of her to unbutton the shirt.

She looked at him there in his undershirt and looked down at the one she was wearing and asked, "Was this your's?"

"Yeah," he smiled.

She smiled back.

"Can you sit up straight for a minute?" he asked, and she did. He moved quickly then to unwrap the bandages around her ribs. He was pleased to see the bruising had faded substantially.

She moved her arm and tried to lift it enough to slip it through the sleeve on that side. It was stiff and sore and she muttered a few Irish curse words under her breath.

"That shoulder was dislocated when we found you," he explained.

"Mmm," she remembered, trying to rotate it as much as she could bear while Michael buttoned the shirt up again. He laid his hands on her knees when he was done and watched her. "Michael?"

He smiled up at her, "Yeah, Fi?"

Her voice was soft, "Thank you for…for…" The words were there, but she couldn't bring herself to say them.

"I know," he told her and leaned in to kiss her. The angle was awkward so he stood up and lifted her again. He moved so he could sit and she was in his lap. She burrowed into him and laid her head against his chest. "You okay?" he wanted to check.

"Mmm," she murmured affirmatively.

He kissed the top of her head again. "I should call Sam, he's…" Michael suddenly remembered just what Sam was doing. "He's checking on some things."

"Can it wait an hour?" she asked contently, her eyes already closed.

He ran his hand gently down her arm and breathed in the smell of her hair. "Yeah," he whispered. "It's late. I think it can wait." He laid his head on top of hers and closed his eyes too.


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning, Michael and Sam put their heads together to form a plan.

"So," Michael outlined, "I'm going to go in as a seller and offer them the chip in exchange for their services in another matter."

"That's a horrible plan, Mike," Sam said disapprovingly. "You're gonna get killed. They're gonna grab you and tie you up and then cut you to little bits like they tried to do to Fi."

"Well what would you do Sam?"

"Me? I'd turn'em over to the real FBI! It's not like we don't have contacts Mike. We have options. I can call up those guys that used to follow you…I bet they'd love a case like this. If nothing else we could call Paxson."

"But what if they can't nail them in court? What if they don't get everybody? One whack job on the street is just as dangerous as any. We have to take care of this ourselves."

"Mike these are terrorists…real, freaking, home-grown terrorists. We have to call the FBI. They have a bomb, a bomb big enough and real enough to require a computer chip. This is not your 'shove some fertilizer into the trunk and hope it works' kind of group. They're serious! They mean business."

"For once I agree with Sam," Fiona chimed in as she took slow but steady steps down the hall and into Campbell's living room.

"Hey! Fi!" Sam smiled at her. "Sleeping Beauty's up and at'em! Good to see you," he told her sincerely.

Michael stood and crossed the room to offer her a hand, but she waved him off.

"I can walk, Michael. It's just a sprain. I've been in bed long enough." She continued shuffling until she got to the couch where she sat down slowly. Michael watched her carefully. "Besides," she said, "It sounds like you need someone to talk some sense into you."

He refrained from answering and went to the fridge for some yogurt. He offered it to Fiona and she opened it eagerly. She took a big spoonful then continued. "I think we ought to get Sam's FBI buddies on board. I know you can take care of yourself, but I don't want you around these people. They're a little too much, even for us."

"Listen, Mike," Sam chimed in, "Why don't we call the FBI guys and see what they think. These guys might already be on their radar…this might be all the information they need to set the case over the edge."

Michael sighed, but nodded his agreement. "Fine. Call'em, Sam."

"Will do," Sam stepped outside to place the call.

"Michael," Fiona said quietly. "I wanted to ask you about going home. It's quite nice of Campbell to help out, but this is a bit strange now, don't you think? If you're going to force me to lounge around I'd at least like to do it in my own bed."

Michael looked down at his hands, unsure what to say.

"What is it, Michael?"

He looked up at her. "They were at your place yesterday, Fi."

"What?"

"That's where I was when you woke up. They were at your place looking for the chip and they totally ransacked everything. It's a mess."

She sat stiffly, staring at the air in front of her. "I want to go. I need to see it."

"Fi, no," he whispered and put a hand on her knee. "Let me fix things up first. You don't want to-"

"Michael, if you don't take me I'll make Campbell take me. Or Sam. Or your mother."

He sighed. "I'm not going to win today, am I?"

She smiled and kissed his cheek. "Nope."

He grabbed the back of her head and held her when she started to pull away. He held her face there, next to his. His brain wanted to tell her how much he loved her, but his mouth wouldn't cooperate. She sighed and his heart melted just a bit.

"I'll drive you there in a little while, okay?" he gave in. He let her go and she leaned back into the couch cushions.

He took her yogurt and spoon back to the kichen as Sam returned. "All righty, friends, we have a deal."


	13. Chapter 13

Campbell gave Fiona one more exam and then released her to Michael's care. She was wearing fresh clothes Sam had brought from her house the night before, but to Michael she still looked worn and tired. There was something uniquely Fiona, a little spark of something that was still lacking even though she was now awake and walking and talking.

"Thank you, Campbell," she told him and gave him a little peck on the cheek. He blushed and helped her down the stairs to where Michael was waiting with the car.

Michael helped her into the front seat of the Charger as Campbell gave them some last minute directions. "Lots of rest so you don't damage the ribs more than they already are. Work your shoulder, but don't over work it…same with the ankle. If it gets too swollen, prop it up and get some ice on it. Check her forehead and the cuts at least once a day and use some antibiotic to make sure they don't get infected. Those stitches ought to be ready to come out in a few more days. Can you do that?" he asked Michael.

"Yeah, I've taken out lots of stitches. Don't worry." He paused after closing the car door. "Thank you again for all your help."

Campbell nodded. "You're welcome, but…no offense, but I hope you never need to call for my help again."

"None taken," Michael replied, walking around to the driver's side. "I totally agree," he told Campbell over the top of the car as he slipped on his sunglasses.

The two men nodded at each other and Campbell headed inside as the Charger pulled away.

Michael glanced over at Fiona as he drove. "You okay?"

"Fine," she told him curtly.

"You sure you don't want to go to the loft? Or my mom's house?"

"I want to go home, Michael," she said quietly.

He didn't bother to reply, just laid a hand on her knee as he drove.

* * *

><p>Sam, meanwhile, had the pleasure of entertaining his two favorite FBI agents at the Carlito. He'd already ordered himself a mojito in the hope that they would end up covering the bill. The little brown paper bag sitting next to it held something he knew they would appreciate.<p>

"Sam," Agent Harris greeted him as the approached. The two men pulled out chairs and joined him at the table.

"Good to see you guys again," Sam smiled. "Well, maybe not the best circumstances, but if you guys could help us with this little problem that'd be great."

"What exactly is this problem, Sam?" Agent Lane tried to speed things up.

"Well you guys remember Fiona?"

The men nodded. "Westen's girlfriend."

"Well, you know, on again, off again, but yeah," Sam continued. "So Fiona accidentally got this group of white supremacists mad at her-"

"Do we want to know how?"

"No," Sam shook his head. "You don't. But anyway, come to find out they're planning an act of domestic terrorism."

"Sam…" Harris' voice was a warning.

"No, for real, but luckily," he pushed the paper bag across the table, "they can't do anything until they get this."

Agent Lane picked up the bag and took a peek inside. He raised his eyebrows and let Agent Harris take a look.

"You know we have to turn this in, right?"

"Oh yeah, definitely. We'd rather not have any more involvement in this except, you know Michael, he wants to be involved in bringing them down so that he knows for sure you got everybody."

Lane smiled. "He doesn't trust us? After all these years?"

"No," Sam shook his head melodramatically, "But I think if you picked up the tab for lunch he might come around…"

* * *

><p>Michael and Fiona pulled up in front of her condo. He hopped out and opened her door before she could try to do it herself. She leaned on his arm as they walked up. She noticed the gate, but said nothing. The board over the door was a little more obvious, but she held her tongue while Michael unlocked it.<p>

Sam had sworn up and down that he'd done a decent job cleaning up, but Michael poked his head inside to double check. It wasn't back to normal, but it wasn't quite as shocking as what they'd walked into the day before. He pushed the door open and guided her inside.

She paused in the doorway and looked around. Michael tried to gently bring her in so that she could sit down, but she brushed him off. Her gaze fell to points around the room where things were not quite right. Pillows were missing, bookshelves were half empty, art work on the wall hung crookedly. It took her a moment to acclimate herself to the mess as she made mental notes of what was missing or misplaced.

"Did they take anything, or did they just destroy things?" she asked, still unmoving.

"Sam said he found six guns around the house, three knives, and an ice pick…so I'm guessing they were only after one thing."

"And they didn't find it here." Fiona took a few steps in and closed the door behind herself. "Can you check that spot under the bathroom sink where I keep the…you know? I'll check the fireplace."

"No," Michael told her, taking her arm. "You'll have a seat on the couch or get in bed and I'll check both spots."

Fiona glared at him a bit, but knew he was right. Leaning over to crane her neck up and into the chimney would make her ribs hurt quite a bit. "Fine," she gave in and allowed him to lead her over to the couch.

Michael checked those hiding places for her and then three others he'd never known she kept. All of her important paperwork and favorite weapons were secure.

"Well that's nice of them," she mused. "Either they're too stupid to look hard enough or know the value of what they came across or they're just very politely destructive."

"I'm hoping it's stupid," Michael replied as he fixed her something to eat.

He set it down for her and was just going back to make something for himself when his phone rang. "Yeah Sam?" he answered it.

"Mike, can you come down to Carlitos? The men in suits want to plan our attack."

"Hang on, Sam." He looked across the room at Fiona. "Will you be all right here by yourself?" he asked her.

"Bring me that gun I keep in the umbrella stand, please." Michael pulled it out and brought it over to her. She double checked that it was loaded and ready to go, smiling to herself. "Yes, now I'll be just fine."


	14. Chapter 14

_**Continued thanks for the lovely comments. Working on wrapping things up, but not before a few more surprises...**_

* * *

><p>"<em>Hang on, Sam." He looked across the room at Fiona. "Will you be all right here by yourself?" he asked her.<em>

"_Bring me that gun I keep in the umbrella stand, please." Michael pulled it out and brought it over to her. She double checked that it was loaded and ready to go, smiling to herself. "Yes, now I'll be just fine."_

* * *

><p>When Michael joined the men at Carlito's, Sam was on his third mojito.<p>

"Mr. Westen." the two agents stood to greet him.

"Gentlemen," Michael acknowledged before sitting down.

"Hey, Mikey," Sam smiled.

Michael looked over the empty glasses disapprovingly, but Sam just shrugged.

"So, Mr. Westen," Agent Lane began, "We were hoping you could call Mr. Dixon and set up a meeting with him for tomorrow morning. We had our office look up his number. We're thinking we call him up, let him know you're working with Fiona and you're ready to sell the chip. Knowing them, they'll set up a trap for you just like they did for her and that's when we'll be able to round up everyone all at once."

"You really think he'll fall for that?" Michael questioned.

"We do. They know Fiona still has the chip, and they know she escaped. Clearly they're still looking for it, so if they know you work with her and if you agree to come alone we think they'll take the bait."

"All right," Michael told them. "But Sam and I have to be there to make sure."

"Understood," Harris said.

"And what about the mosque? How do we know they won't just make a new bomb or go over there shooting?" Michael asked.

"We don't, but we've notified the leaders of the Muslim community in Miami and we will be putting undercover officers in place anywhere that Dixon might try to strike. They should be fine."

"Okay, so let's make the call."

Agent Harris passed a small notebook over to Michael with the phone number, the time, and the place they were aiming for. Michael opened his phone and dialed.

Dixon picked up on the third ring. "Yeah? Who's this?"

"Mr. Dixon," Michael replied. "I don't know if you've heard of me…my name is Michael Westen. I believe you've met my associate, Ms. Glenanne."

Dixon was quiet for a moment. "Yes," he said slowly. "I had the pleasure of meeting Ms. Glenanne a few days ago, but sadly we didn't get to finish our conversation. I stopped by her house to say hi, but she wasn't home."

"How unfortunate," Michael continued. "I was wondering if you might be interested in meeting with me instead. I think we have something you're looking for, is that right?"

Dixon grunted.

"We would be willing to part with it…for a price of course."

"You're gonna try to sell me what's mine, are you?"

Michael laughed. "Oh Mr. Dixon, don't you know? In our line of work, possession is nine tenths of the law. If you'd like your chip you can buy it back tomorrow morning." He gave Dixon the time and the place.

"Fine," Dixon grunted again. "We'll see you there. Now tell me, Mr. Westen, what is it you want for this chip?"

"Oh, you know, the usual…a duffle bag full of non-sequential, unmarked bills. $200, 000, to be exact."

Dixon sputtered. "That's twice what it's worth!"

"Bring what you can," Michael told the man, "And we'll see if it's enough. Maybe you get your chip back or maybe we just have a cup of tea and chat."

"Oh we'll see," Dixon practically growled. "We'll definitely see."

"Great then," Michael pretended to ignore Dixon's menacing tone. "See you then!" He snapped the phone closed. "We should be good to go," he told the other men at the table.

They nodded.

"One more thing," Michael told them as they started to reach for their phones. "I want 24 hour protection on Fiona, my mom, and a man named Campbell who's been helping us out. If Dixon's any good he could have followed Sam and I at any point and traced us back to Campbell's where we've been staying. If he did that, surely he saw my mom as well. I want someone on them at all times until this is done. I don't want to take any chances."

"We can handle that," Agent Harris told him. "This is big…they're pumping any resources we need into it."

"Yeah," Agent Lane added. "This should be a nice addition to our arrest records. Thanks for that."

"Anytime, guys," Sam chimed in. "So how about another round of mojitos?"

* * *

><p>When Michael left, Fiona stayed on the couch for awhile, just looking around. She took stock mentally of everything that would have to be replaced. Some things, she saw, would be irreplaceable…the snow globes, a blanket her mother had sent, an antique vase Maddie had given her last year on her birthday.<p>

She got up finally and wandered into the bedroom, tucking the gun in the waistband of her shorts. Things in there looked mostly normal, but she noticed some pillows missing and assumed Sam must have thrown them away. There were a few cracked flowerpots out in the courtyard, but nothing too bad.

She popped her head in the bathroom. Some of the bottles and brushes were misplaced, but nothing seemed to be broken. Seeing the bathroom suddenly made her feel utterly disgusting. It had been days since her last shower and she suddenly felt the full extent of the grit and grime she'd accumulated over the last few days. She reached in to start the water then stripped off what she was wearing, leaving the gun resting on the back of the toilet. She remembered the gauze on her forehead at the last minute and quickly peeled it off and threw it in the trash.

The water was still a bit chilly when she stepped inside and she shivered. She let it rinse over her hair and down her back. As it got warmer, she let it hit her sore shoulder. She rotated it slowly, feeling all her muscles loosen and relax. She closed her eyes and let the water hit her face. It was one of the most relaxing showers she ever remembered taking.

She stayed in the shower until the water started to run cold. She grabbed a towel as she stepped out and wrapped it around her hair. She was just reaching for her robe when she heard what sounded like one of the cabinets banging shut in the kitchen. Her stomach sank and her heart started to race. She wrapped the robe around herself quickly and picked up the gun. She opened the bathroom door slowly, just a crack and called out into the hallway.

"Michael? Is that you?"

When there was no answer she shut the door again silently and leaned against it, trying to decide what to do. There was no way she could make it through the tiny, high window in the shower in her condition, so she decided the only thing she could do was wait.


	15. Chapter 15

**_Again, you all are lovely. Many thanks for brightening my day with your comments. I always enjoy them._**

* * *

><p>"<em>Michael? Is that you?"<em>

_When there was no answer she shut the door again silently and leaned against it, trying to decide what to do. There was no way she could make it through the tiny, high window in the shower in her condition, so she decided the only thing she could do was wait._

* * *

><p>Fiona took a seat on the lid of the toilet and readied herself for whatever might come barging through the bathroom door. She silently chastised herself for being this jumpy. It was not like her. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to try to calm herself. She heard what sounded like pots banging and her heart started to race again.<p>

'This is stupid,' she told herself and stood up slowly to open the door. She wrapped her fingers around the doorknob but couldn't bring herself to turn it. Her face scrunched up instead as tears formed in her eyes. She set her back against the door and let herself sink down to the floor. Her injuries protested the movement and with the combination of frustration and pain, her tears finally did start to flow. She mentally kicked herself for not bringing a phone in the room with her. If she could just call Michael he could take care of things for her. For once she would be grateful and accept the rescue.

She stilled and wiped her eyes at the sound of footsteps in the hallway. She held her breath as they approached and then paused outside the bathroom door.

"Fiona?"

She jumped in surprise and dropped the gun on the tile floor. It was Madeline.

"Fiona?" she called again. "Are you in there? Are you all right, honey?"

Maddie turned the doorknob when there was no answer but she couldn't push the door open with Fiona sitting there. Fiona tried to stand up but couldn't make it with her injuries. She scooted over on the floor so that the door could be opened.

Maddie peered inside and found her sitting there, with tear-streaked cheeks. "Fiona!" she exclaimed. "What are you doing on the floor? Did you hurt yourself?"

Fiona sniffled then gave in as her whole body shook with tears.

"Hey, honey," Maddie cooed, getting down on the floor with her. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry," Fi choked out. "I thought…I just thought…"

Maddie smoothed back her wet hair. "It's okay, honey. I'm sorry if I scared you. Michael asked me to come check on you. He gave me his key. I'm so sorry sweetheart."

"It's okay," Fiona told her through sobs. Now that she'd started crying she couldn't stop. All the events of the past few days caught up with her. It was the kind of break down she tried to make sure she only had in private, but that wasn't going to work this time.

Maddie scooted herself closer and put her arms around the younger woman she'd come to think of as a daughter. She pulled Fiona into a hug and tucked her head under her chin. "It's okay," she rubbed her back. "You're okay now."

* * *

><p>Michael returned to Fiona's condo that evening to find his mother sprawled out on Fiona's couch. She jumped at the sound of the door closing.<p>

"Michael!" she whispered.

"Hi Mom," he whispered back. "Is she sleeping?"

Maddie nodded and sat up, rubbing her eyes. "She needs you, Michael. She was very upset earlier."

"She was fine when I left." He set down the duffle bag he'd brought from the loft.

"Well she wasn't fine when I sat with her on the bathroom floor for a half hour while she cried."

"Damn it." He ran a hand over his face.

"But she's probably fine now. She had a shower, she cried it out, I fed her, and she went to bed."

"Thanks, Ma."

She nodded. "Did you get all of your work straightened out?"

"Yeah," he told her. "It's gonna be over tomorrow. But, Mom, until then I asked the FBI to send someone to protect you. Okay? They're just going to watch the house; they shouldn't bother you. We just want to make sure these guys don't try to hurt us by hurting you. I'm sorry."

Maddie stood up and hugged him. "It's okay, Michael. I understand. Are you okay here now?"

"Yeah, Mom. I'll see you tomorrow sometime."

"Okay, sweetie." She kissed his cheek. "Take care of Fi, all right?"

"I will." He locked the door behind her as she left, picked up his bag and headed into Fi's room. He could barely see her with her big, fluffy comforter pulled up to her chin. He changed quickly into the pajamas he'd brought and slipped into the bed next to her.

She woke up with the movement in the bed and opened her eyes.

"Hi," she whispered.

He settled in closer to her and put an arm around her waist. "Hi," he kissed her forehead.

She sighed and burrowed closer to him, relishing the warmth from his body and the familiar smell of the soap he used. She could tell he'd been home to the loft without even asking.

It was quiet for a moment. "We're going to get him tomorrow. It'll be over," he told her quietly. He wanted to make sure she knew, hoping it would help her relax.

"Good," she mumbled.

He spun a strand of her hair between his fingers, unsure what to say. "Are you okay?"

"I will be," she answered sleepily. "When I get to blow this guy to little pieces."

Michael smiled to himself and breathed a sigh of relief at such a typical response. "I'm not sure that's part of the bargain we have with the FBI."

She yawned. "We'll see…"


	16. Chapter 16

_He spun a strand of her hair between his fingers, unsure what to say. "Are you okay?"_

"_I will be," she answered sleepily. "When I get to blow this guy to little pieces."_

_Michael smiled to himself and breathed a sigh of relief at such a typical response. "I'm not sure that's part of the bargain we have with the FBI."_

_She yawned. "We'll see…"_

* * *

><p>Fiona woke early the next morning, feeling relaxed and refreshed. It wasn't until she stretched that the aches returned and she remembered the last few days. She grumbled to herself and reached over to the nightstand to grab a few Advil. She sat up slowly in bed and swallowed them without water. Years of guerilla warfare had taught her that skill. Michael's hand tightened on her thigh after slipping down from her waist as he unconsciously tried to keep contact with her.<p>

She grabbed his hand and laid back down, watching him sleep. She often watched him sleep and wondered what he dreamed about. At times his face would be peaceful and other times his brow would furrow and his eyelids would twitch back and forth. Right now he seemed to be at peace and she leaned in to kiss him tenderly. His arm wrapped around her again, firm but gentle and he kissed her back before he ever opened his eyes. He ran his hand up her back and into her hair, pulling her head back to his for another, longer kiss. He pulled his lips away finally but let his forehead rest against hers while he took a deep breath and then sighed.

"Good morning," he told her sleepily.

"Good morning," she smiled back.

"How are you?" he asked.

"Sore."

He sat up quickly then. "I'll go get you some medicine and-"

"Michael," she cut him off and nodded to the bottle on the nightstand. "I already took some pain killers, I'll be fine."

He still continued to climb out of bed. "Well I'm going to make you some breakfast and you can eat it in here. You need to rest today. You did too much yesterday. Campbell would kill me if he knew what you did yesterday."

"Campbell wouldn't kill a fly," she balked.

"You never know," he smiled. "Eggs?"

"Please." He kissed her as she laid back down then headed into the kitchen. "So Michael," she yelled down the hall to him, "What are you all doing today. You said it was going to be over?"

He poked his head around the corner. "The FBI is mostly in charge. They're setting up a sting. Dixon comes to the meeting with all his goons hoping to get me and the chip, but instead they all wind up captured by the FBI."

"That easy?" she asked.

"Well sure, when you're the FBI and you have endless amounts of agents and fire power at your disposal it makes things quite a bit easier."

"I suppose so."

He went back to cooking and she closed her eyes for a few minutes. Before she knew it he was rubbing ointment on her forehead. She jerked awake.

"You fell asleep again," he informed her.

"I was just resting my eyes," she protested.

He finished fixing the cut on her forehead then handed her the plate of eggs. "Eat," he instructed.

"I know what to do with a plate of food, Michael," she grumbled but then smiled. "Thanks."

As she ate he took time to get dressed. She watched him, grinning with teasing eyes between bites. "When this is all over we should go somewhere," she told him.

"Where?" he asked. "I can't exactly travel to any exotic locals."

"Well no," she admitted, "But, you know, we could just get a room at one of those beach resorts and spend the week there without leaving the room…" she raised her eyebrows. "Or without leaving the bed."

He grinned. "It's a deal." He sat down on the bed to slip on some socks. "Listen Fi, please just rest today. Can I get you anything else?" She shook her head. "And also," he said nonchalantly, "in case you see them, there's an FBI detail watching your place."

"What?"

"I asked them to watch you, my mom, and Campbell until we've got these guys. If I can't be here with you, I want to know that you're safe."

"Really, Michael? You invited the FBI to my house? _My_house?"

"They're not going to come in unless there's a problem and if they have to come in then we'll just deal with that later. Harris and Lane have some leverage in the department now, it'll be fine."

She climbed out of bed and headed for the window.

"Fiona!" he protested.

"Oh, Michael, I'm fine. At least until those suits realize whose house they're sitting in front of." She fussed with the curtain.

"They're not going to bother you. I'll make sure of it." Michael stood close behind her at the window and put his hands on her shoulders. "Just lay down, relax, read some trashy magazines and watch some daytime TV and before you know it we'll be off in that beachside hotel you were talking about." When she didn't say anything, he wrapped his arms around her chest and brought his head down next to hers. "Fi?"

She leaned into him. "Fine. But if I get sent to Guantanamo Bay or some other God-forsaken place it's up to you to break me out…understood?"

He grinned and kissed her cheek. "You have my word."


	17. Chapter 17

Michael and Sam met up with Agents Harris and Lane later that morning as they had arranged the day before. Headquarters for the operation was five blocks away in an empty storefront. Or at least it appeared empty from the outside. On the inside it was a bustling hive of activity with a row of computers set up, crates of weapons and other gear, and a large screen where they were watching the view from various surveillance locations closer in to the site of the meeting.

Michael and Sam felt like they were walking back in time stepping into the middle of an operation like this.

"Mike," Sam whispered to him, "I'm not used to all this…stuff. Is this really how we used to operate back in the day?"

"Only when we had to," Michael told him. "I never liked this much support."

"Too many cooks…" Sam agreed.

Agent Lane spotted them as they stood in the entryway.

"Westen, Axe, I want you in a bullet-proof vests for this," he said, handing one to each of them.

Michael didn't really think it was necessary but understood the demand. They quickly stripped off their shirts, strapped on the vest and put their shirts back on over top of them. Michael shifted back and forth a little to get used to the feeling. It had been awhile since he'd worn any kind of body armor.

Sam could barely get his vest to stay securely fashioned. "You guys don't have anything in a bigger size?" he asked, only half joking.

"Sorry," Harris told him, walking over. "I don't think it's the vest that's the problem."

Sam glared at him, which caused Michael to glare at Sam. The two agents just ignored them.

"So," Harris went on, "Our guys are already down at the warehouse in hiding. We wait for Dixon and his men to show up in the area. You two go in, they follow you, and boom."

"Boom?" Michael looked at him.

"You know…boom, we've got them."

Michael and Sam glanced at each other. "Poor choice of words," Sam grumbled.

Harris' phone buzzed and he looked down at the message. "All right," he told them. "They're here. They're just down the block in a white panel van. You'll drive right past them on your way in."

"Ready, Sam?" Michael asked. He nodded.

Michael glanced over at a desk on his way out and noticed files spread across it for all the men. He took a look at Dixon's and pulled his mug shot off the file. "I want to make sure I speak with this one personally," Michael told the agents when they gave him a strange look. He put the photo in his breast pocket and followed Sam out to the Charger.

They drove slowly down the street, through one of Miami's seedier areas. Michael parked the Charger in front of the warehouse where they'd agreed to meet. He and Sam looked around as they walked in, looking for any sign of the FBI presence.

"They're good," Sam whispered.

"They're the FBI," Michael replied.

He pushed open the door to the warehouse and they walked in. There were large crates scattered around the fringes of the open space and Michael assumed they concealed the agents who would step in to catch the supremacists.

He and Sam milled about until they settled on a spot towards the back of the warehouse. They heard an engine pull up outside and then stop. Footsteps crunched on the gravel. The main door to the warehouse creaked open and three men filed in, guns raised. Several more filed in after them, not even bothering to pull out a weapon. The men were dressed in camo pants and sleeveless shirts. Several of them wore baseball caps pulled low. Between their hats and the darkness, Michael couldn't make out all of their faces.

"Whoa there! Easy gentlemen," he told them, raising his hands.

"We're just here to do a little business," Sam said, raising his hands in surrender. "We come in peace," he quipped.

"You might come in peace," said the man in the front who was advancing on them the fastest, "But you're going to leave in pieces."

The last man closed the door behind him. As soon as it swung shut the warehouse was a blur of activity. FBI agents jumped out from all corners of the building and over-powered the men. Michael took out the one in front with a swift punch to the jaw before the man could even figure out what was going on.

An agent spoke into his phone, contacting the base, "Mission accomplished. We've got'em."

As the dust settled, Michael wandered amongst the agents and the supremacists, checking Dixon's mug shot against each of the men. He found Sam helping one of the agents hold one of the men against the wall. "Sam, is this everyone? Is this all we got?"

Sam looked at him in confusion. "I think so, Mikey. They haven't moved any of them yet. Why? What's up?"

"I don't see Dixon." He showed Sam the mug shot. "He's not here. We didn't get him."

Sam looked perplexed. "But if he's not here, where could he…"

"Fiona," they both exclaimed at the same time.

"Crap," Sam groaned. He followed Michael outside and climbed into the Charger right before Michael peel off, down the street.


	18. Chapter 18

**_Didn't want to interrupt anyone's Sam Axe Appreciation Day parties, so I thought I'd post a little early today. Don't forget about the movie tonight! It looks awesome._**

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><p>Fiona lounged around in bed after Michael left, just like he'd asked. She had to admit that it felt nice to be lazy. She brought her laptop with her to bed and laid there for a while catching up on emails and reading the news. She browsed around for some Miami hotels to consider where she and Michael could get away from all of this and relax for a few days.<p>

Within an hour her eyelids were feeling heavy again. She crawled out of bed before falling asleep and checked out the window for the FBI car. It had not moved since she first saw it earlier. She pulled the drapes closed and made sure all of the doors were locked.

Feeling the need to be vigilant but also oddly romantic she went through her closet for the Makarov Michael had given her for her first birthday in Miami. She checked it over quickly and made sure it was loaded, tucked it under her pillow, then crawled back into bed for a nap.

* * *

><p>Sam called Agent Lane from the car as Michael sped through Miami, barely missing other cars as he zipped in and out of traffic.<p>

The Fed picked up in a huff. "Where the hell are you two?"

"We're on our way to Fiona's house." Sam told him. "You didn't get Dixon!"

"What do you mean we didn't get Dixon?"

"Mike checked all the men at the warehouse and Dixon wasn't there. Call your man at Fiona's place and let him know to be on the look out. Mike and I should be there soon."

"Got it," Lane answered and hung up.

Michael looked over at Sam as he drove. "Call Fi, let her know what's going on."

Sam hit Fiona's number on his speed dial and listened to it ring. "She's not picking up, Mikey."

"Damn it, Sam. How could we be so stupid?" Michael smacked the steering wheel with his palm in frustration.

Sam's phone rang again and he answered it without looking. "Yeah?" he answered in a rush.

It was Agent Lane, "Our man at Fiona's house isn't answering. We're sending more cars over there. Harris is on his way with them."

"Good!" Sam told him. "We'll see you there."

* * *

><p>Fiona awoke to the sound of smashing glass. Her eyes flashed open and she froze. The sound came from her back door. She heard boots crunching glass and she wrapped her fingers around the Makarov, slipping it quickly down to her side and pulling the comforter up to her chin.<p>

"Who's there?" she demanded.

"Just little old me," a voice called from the living room, heading towards her. It was a voice she would never forget.

And then he was there, standing in the doorway to her bedroom. "Did you miss me?" he asked with a manic grin. "We never got a chance to finish our conversation earlier, so I thought I'd stop by and surprise you."

She remained silent for the moment.

"What? No welcome?" He shook his head and leaned against the doorframe.

"How did you get past the FBI outside?" she finally asked.

"Those jokers?" He reached over his shoulder and pulled around the rifle that was strapped to him. "They're like sitting ducks on this kind of job. Just sitting out there in the black sedans. Never even saw me."

Her stomach tied in knots and she gripped the gun tightly beneath the covers. "What do you want?"

"What do I want?" He threw his head back in amusement. "I want compensation for what you took from me."

She wondered if she could stall him. Surely Michael must be on his way. "And what's that?"

He grunted. "Gee, let me see…a crate full of guns, that damn chip, the opportunity to complete our mission, a week's worth of my time, and most importantly my reputation." He let the sniper rifle hang to his side. "I hope you know your little plan at that warehouse today is a waste of time. Sure, those men will go down, but when news of today gets out I'll be able to recruit three times as many men and then we'll be unstoppable."

She shivered and decided this had to end here. All she needed was for him to come a little closer to the bed so that she could get a good angle for her shot.

She stared at him steadily then shot one arm out from under the comforter to reach for her cell phone. He leapt into the room and pointed the rifle at her before she could reach it…just what she wanted.

"No, no, no my dear," he warned. "Don't even think about it."

She brought her arm back to hug the comforter closer, feigning fear. His eyes fell on her bare arm, the red lines running from her shoulder to her wrist in stark contrast to her tanned skin.

"How are those cuts healing up?" he asked and brushed the barrel of the rifle down the length of her arm. "Do you need some more on the other side to balance things out?"

She jerked her arm away and narrowed her eyes at him as her phone started to vibrate. He stepped over to pick it up and she shifted the Makarov slowly, making sure the movement wasn't visible from above.

"Sam," he read the caller ID. "Sorry, Sam. Fiona can't talk right now." He dropped the phone on the floor and smashed it with the butt of the rifle.

He was in a perfect location; her trigger finger was feeling itchy, but part of her felt like she should make some kind of deep, profound statement so that Dixon might realize the error of his ways. Nothing came to mind though and she wasn't sure there was anything to say to such an evil bastard that might make any difference.

He was about to take a step closer to the bed when the shot rang out and downy white feathers exploded into the air. She bolted up and across the bed, holding the gun steady in front of her. She sat up on her knees and peered carefully over the edge of the bed as the feathers floated slowly to the ground. Dixon was there, laying motionless on the floor. A deep red spot of blood was spreading out rapidly from the point where she'd hit him…directly in the heart.


	19. Chapter 19

_He was about to take a step closer to the bed when the shot rang out and downy white feathers exploded into the air. She bolted up and across the bed, holding the gun steady in front of her. She sat up on her knees and peered carefully over the edge of the bed as the feathers floated slowly to the ground. Dixon was there, laying motionless on the floor. A deep red spot of blood was spreading out rapidly from the point where she'd hit him…directly in the heart._

* * *

><p>Michael skidded the Charger to a stop in front of Fiona's condo without even bothering to find a parking space. He and Sam jumped out and Sam ran over to the FBI agent's car. Michael didn't wait to hear the man's status before bursting through Fiona's courtyard and unlocking her front door.<p>

"Fi!" he called, his voice frantic.

"Michael!" she exclaimed, the relief evident in her voice.

He ran towards the sound of her voice, back to her bedroom. She was kneeling on the far corner of the bed as far from Dixon's dead body as possible.

"Michael," she cried out again and practically leapt towards him.

He caught and held her out of pure instinct, utterly overwhelmed by the scene in front of him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

"Fi…what…?" Dixon was bleeding out on her bedroom floor, covered in blood-stained feathers. "Are you all right? Did he hurt you?"

She shook her head. "I shot him, Michael," she mumbled into his neck. "He was here and he killed that FBI agent and he was going to keep hurting people, so I killed him."

"Finally," Michael whispered, kissing the side of her face. He tightened his arms around her for a moment, fighting back grateful tears by taking deep breaths and concentrating on her steady breath against his neck.

He carried her out to the living room and set her down on the couch. He knelt in front of her and pulled up her shirt a little to check her ribs. "You didn't hurt yourself again with that leap did you?" he asked in a quiet voice.

She took a deep breath. "I don't think so."

They began to hear sirens in the distance and Sam rushed in. "Fi! You okay?"

She nodded.

He smiled. "Great! Listen, the FBI's headed this way. You need me to hide anything real fast?"

Fiona and Michael couldn't help but grin at each other. "No, Sam, I think everything's safe right now. I don't keep a lot here anyway." He nodded. "But thanks for asking."

"You got it." He gave her a thumbs up.

"Is he really dead?" she asked Sam.

He nodded solemnly. "Where's Dixon?"

"On the floor in Fi's bedroom," Michael answered.

"Is he…?"

Fiona nodded.

The FBI cars were pulling up outside and neighbors were beginning to assemble on the street.

Michael joined her on the couch and pulled her in close under one of his arms while the FBI agents swarmed in. Sam went outside to help while Harris came in to find Michael and Fiona.

"Ms. Glenanne," he sat down across from them. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine," she told him.

He pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. "Can you tell me what happened here?"

Fiona stiffened and sighed. "I was taking a nap when I heard glass breaking." She motioned to the broken back door. "Dixon came in and told me he'd shot the FBI agent outside. He said he didn't care if you guys got his men, he was going to be able to recruit even more. He got closer and threatened me, so I shot him."

"So, you would say it was self-defense?" She nodded. "Good. That should be it then." He looked at Michael and then back at Fiona. "Thank you for your assistance with this matter. Things could have been very different. Agent Lane and I will take care of any…issues that might arise. We'll get things cleaned up here and get out of your way." Michael and Fiona nodded and Harris walked off to check out the scene in the bedroom.

"Michael?" She looked up at him.

"Yeah, Fi?"

"Can we go to the loft? I need to get out of here." She shivered a bit an FBI agent walked by with a body bag and Michael pulled her closer and grabbed his keys.


	20. Chapter 20

**_One more quick, little chapter and this wraps it up. Thanks again for all the lovely comments. To let you in on a little secret, I'm actually a fairly regular Burn Notice fic writer, but I wasn't too sure about this story at first, so I decided to post it under a new name. Thanks for all the encouragement. I'm quite pleased with how it turned out. It's a bit of a departure for me, but that's nice sometimes. Hope you like the ending. Thanks again. :)_**

* * *

><p>"Michael, quit it!" Fiona exclaimed, writhing with laughter against the plush comforter of the hotel bed.<p>

He pulled his lips off her neck but continued to brush his fingertips up and down her side where he knew she was most ticklish. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" he teased.

"Michael!" Tears of laughter were welling in her eyes. She twisted in his grip until she could press her lips to his. His hands stilled as the kiss deepened and then ran up her back, giving her chills.

He pressed into her and she wrapped a leg around his waist trying to pull him even closer. Their breath quickened and she gripped the muscles of his shoulders.

He tried to pull away but she leaned up to continue kissing him. "Fi," he mumbled through the kiss, "Fi…I…" She heard his voice crack just a bit and she pulled away to let him speak.

"Michael?" she whispered.

He sighed. "I'm glad you're okay." He brushed the hair out of her face and she smiled up at him encouragingly. "I…" He brushed his hand down the length of her arm, once covered in lines of cuts, now healing to almost imperceptible, thin scars. "I…" his voice was barely audible, "I don't know what I'd do if I lost you, Fiona."

"Oh, Michael," she pulled him down to her again where he buried his face in her neck. "I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

><p>"Come on, Fi. Aren't you ready yet?"<p>

"Just give me one more minute, Michael. You won't be disappointed."

He smiled and straightened his tie. The door to the bathroom swung open and she stepped out in a simple, black dress, her hair pulled up and off her neck.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded with a smile.

He grabbed her hand. "Come on then. There's one thing we need to do before dinner."

* * *

><p>The lobby of the Setai was calm and tranquil. Michael led her over to one of the outdoor patios where a man sat watching the palm trees sway in the breeze.<p>

"Mr. Faisal?" Michael approached him.

The man stood and turned to them, smiling. "Yes, I'm Mr. Faisal. You must be Mr. Westen…and this is Miss Glenanne?"

Michael nodded and Fiona looked at him in confusion.

"Miss Glenanne," Faisal addressed her. "I came here to thank you." He took one of her hands in both of his. "The FBI alerted us to the terrorist threat several weeks ago, but I only recently learned the full details of your involvement."

Fiona opened her mouth but couldn't think of anything to say. She glanced at Michael again and he placed a hand on her back comfortingly.

"Miss Glenanne, I want you to know the full extent of our gratitude for your strength and bravery." He squeezed her hand. "There are really no words to express it, but I hope you know you will always have a place of honor in our community. There are not many people who would fight through the kind of torture you did in order to protect people they've never met. We will always, always be grateful. Thank you." He released her hand and smiled before walking away.

Her eyes followed him for a moment and then turned to Michael full of questions.

"It wasn't me," Michael told her. "He just called the other day looking for you so I agreed we'd meet him here."

"Michael, I…"

He leaned down to kiss her temple. "You deserve that, Fi. You might have gotten yourself into that mess on accident but you did a good thing and changed the lives of a lot of people."

"Well, I…" she still didn't know what to say.

"I know," Michael told her quietly. "Come on." The hand on her back pressed her gently towards the hotel's restaurant. "Enough of that. Let's go eat." She slipped in against his side and he wrapped an arm around her, holding her tight. He smiled down at her. "We're gonna have to keep our strength up if we're going to get our money's worth out of that hotel room."


End file.
